


The Snake and the Spider

by Aspire_to_Inspire



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Canon, Sympathetic Dark Sides (Sanders Sides), Sympathetic Deceit | Janus Sanders, mostly hurt little comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:13:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24991354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aspire_to_Inspire/pseuds/Aspire_to_Inspire
Summary: When Thomas lies to himself, Virgil takes the fall, and Janus takes the blame.Repression can be...very bad indeed. For all parties involved.
Kudos: 29





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I usually only post strictly canon-compliant works, but I'm THIRSTING for more on the relationship between Virgil and Deceit, so I made this. I might take it down when the canon gets updated, but if you want it to stay up, show it with comments or kudos please.

He didn't talk at first.

Every once in a while something would send an unpleasant zing up his spine, and he would pad over to one of the others to tug their sleeves or poke their shoulders until that Side had given the problem proper attention. Particularly powerful zings could have him bowling them over in his haste, derailing Thomas' entire train of thought. Those were where most of his first words came from:

“No!”

“Look out!”

“Stop!”

Sometimes the zing was something Thomas couldn't fix or Virgil, with his limited vocabulary, couldn't explain. In those cases, he was stuck front and center, vibrating with discomfort while the others did their best to accommodate and work around him, until something or someone or the mere passage of time had stilled the shakes so he could settle again, keeping watch.

As the years passed, a feeling was no longer enough to get the others' attention. Virgil taught himself to speak their languages, to make his own reasonings or judgements or narratives so the others had something to work with, but if it wasn't enough they would have to send him back to his corner still buzzing until he could give them more. They became less concerned with soothing his alarm than with measuring whether or not it was warranted. After all, was it logical right now? Was it helpful? Was it productive?

Did he really think he _should_ be alarmed?

Virgil didn't understand the question. Certainly, Thomas' fears were triggering more and more often, but his function was to ensure they were heard and mitigated, not to judge their validity or convenience. While the others' roles allowed them to engage with Thomas' life with no need for justification, Virgil was forced to fight increasingly hard for the right to do his job. He got louder, pushier, scarier, anything with enough shock power to give him control, which only further drove his shift from troublesome hindrance to malicious saboteur. The only Side that hadn't come to find him distasteful was Janus.

Janus' role wasn't always good for Virgil; the snake's efforts to preserve Thomas' selfishness often made him clash with the Light Sides, and that never failed to stir up dozens of new anxieties to zap Virgil silly. But Janus did understand being frequently shoved to the back of the mind for simply being who he was, and their goals tended to align more often than not. Of course, all alliances between them only put the others further on guard. It wasn't long before the line that had started between the twins had cut them off as well, growing wider every day, and Virgil became the dreaded Anxiety who, against all efforts, still managed to hijack Thomas' mind when warning signals turned his body painfully electric.

This, too, Janus could sympathize with, as both of them were not just the embodiment of a conscious thought process but part of a hard-wired, biological reaction. Virgil's more severe fight-or-flight adrenaline rushes often shot Self-preservation straight to the driver's seat.

Most importantly, Janus's more confident nature was a rare comfort. Virgil was left constantly uncertain by the conflict of his character: endangering Thomas if he didn't worry, hurting him when he did, all while being jerked about by involuntary fear responses that would mean, if he truly _was_ detrimental, that he was doomed by nature to be that way. Janus, however, was convinced they were valid aspects of Thomas _because_ they were involuntary, and assured Virgil that if they were in any way aberrations then Thomas' mind wouldn't have created them right from its genesis. After all, Janus was all about valuing the self, which meant his judgments fell into the harmful/harmless binary. As long as Virgil was keeping Thomas from potential harm, Janus could hardly see the big deal if he was nasty or unscrupulous while doing so.

But just because Janus accepted him didn't mean Virgil could trust him.


	2. A Job Done Poorly

**Paranoid.**

Those shocks always went deep; instead of scuttling on his skin they settled in his guts, burning and boiling. **Paranoid.** That was the spell used to exile him, to cut him down, then cut him off. **Paranoid**. Worried over nothing. Impossible to soothe or reason with. No option left but to throw him out.

There was a slight whoosh, purely a courtesy to warn him, and then...

“They didn't banish you again?”

Virgil looked up at where the snake stood on the other side of the room, taking in the state of his surroundings. Virgil's room was never exactly a cheerful place, but banishment turned it into a nightmare for the anxious Side: all his belongings had turned to barely-there shadows that retreated from him, leaving him exposed, all his coping mechanisms out of reach. The usual cobwebs had turned to giant threads of sticky silk woven thickly across the room, hemming him into the corner and clinging to his clothes.

Janus slid through the maze of strands without sticking—perks of being a smooth-scaled master of subtleties—until he got close enough to kneel down next to Virgil.

“They don't think he's dangerous,” Virgil bit out, defeated. Janus made a full-body gesture of annoyance.

“Oh, that's excellent! They'll definitely let me stop Thomas before he's already suffered disaster.” Virgil clenched his teeth, nervous enough about what was coming right now without thinking about what might happen _then._

It wasn't that Virgil didn't _want_ Thomas to be happy. When Thomas had met this guy Virgil had only raised the typical, knee-jerk warnings—what if he was straight? Straight and homophobic? Thought Thomas was ugly or awkward or stupid?--but it had only taken some pull from the other Sides to work past those familiar barriers.

But then the guy had shared some...well, super personal stuff. The thoughts and feelings he'd communicated seemed to indicate he was actually in a rather scary headspace. Obviously, Thomas was far too understanding to be judge-y or unkind about that sort of thing, but the more he heard, the more Virgil became convinced that the man wasn't dealing with his issues in a healthy way, and his misgivings rose afresh. What if this dude would prove a danger to Thomas? Even if he didn't harm him directly, Thomas would be entering into a relationship that would leave him vulnerable to some of the nastier forms of heartbreak.

Patton had been the first to fight him on it; the softie's heart bled for their new acquaintance’s woes, and he argued for how good Thomas could be for him. And that thrilling element of love overcoming hardship had Roman all but bursting at the seams with the desire to make such a story come true. Logan had raised a few statistics that were close at hand, but he found the possibility of harm remote and he was usually pretty hands-off when it came to Thomas “catching feelings” anyway.

So Virgil had made an effort to stifle himself while base instinct lit up his insides as though he'd been tasered. He could see danger in every gesture, disaster in every word. Precious Thomas would try to love all those broken, jagged pieces back together and end up needing stitches.

Once Thomas left the conversation Virgil's control over himself had shattered.

“ **We can't see him** _ **ever**_ **again, we can't save him, he'd be bad for Thomas, what if he threatens to do something awful if Thomas doesn't stay with him, what if he does it anyway, it would** _ **destroy**_ **Thomas-”**

His torrent had sent Thomas reeling, and the Light Sides had jumped to shut Virgil down.

“Now kiddo, Thomas _has_ to do the right thing even if it's scary.”

“And he can hardly risk this chance at love!”

“At any rate there simply isn't enough evidence for your claims.”

“Why are you always so reluctant to help?”

“Are you incapable of supporting _anything_ good, Avatar Aangst?”

“Can you give any _realistic_ reasons for your opposition?”

“Stop forcing Thomas to be selfish!”

“Ugh, your input is _worthless_!”

“Unfounded fears are completely irrational.”

“You're just being...”

“Only a coward would be so...”

“It doesn't help Thomas to be this...”

“ _ **Paranoid.”**_

That was all it took for Thomas to shove Anxiety away, away, _away:_ he didn't want to worry, to be self-centered, to jump to conclusions or be judgmental or to feel this way for nothing, over nothing.

He didn't want to be bad or broken, and that was exactly what Virgil made him.

And that's why Janus was here.

“Just do it,” Virgil said, struggling to hide his fear behind resignation.

“Of course,” Janus said casually, as though his task didn't bother him; whether or not that was true was one of the many things about him Virgil could never be certain of. His gloved hands took Virgil's and guided them forward while his others hands emerged from his cape and began to pull and twist the threads around them into cords. His nimble and numerous fingers made quick work of the nearest web, and with a careful tug to make sure it was still anchored securely, he pulled it down and wrapped it securely around Virgil's wrist.

The moment the web touched his skin it sent unease screeching through him.

_You failed your duty; Thomas isn't safe._

He choked on the fear for a moment, but managed to swallow it back before Janus had a second cord around his left elbow.

_You overreacted. Thomas' mental state is in shambles over nothing._

Another sticky shackle, this one on his ankle.

_If you hadn't been so antagonistic they might have listened to you._

_Next time come at them harder and_ _**force** _ _them to listen!_

_They wouldn't be able to banish you if you were a proper Side._

_They_ _**should** **n'**_ _ **t** be able to banish you! You should banish _ _**them** _ _for being so naïve!_

“Janus, I d **on't** ”-

“Hush.”

_There isn't a single thing on Earth you couldn't hopelessly ruin._

_Real protectors aren't freaky little cowards like you._

_Thomas could_ _**die** _ _because you were too_ _**weak.**_

_"_ **Stop it, Janus, make it stop..."**

"Obviously I _will_."

_Too bad **you** can't just die._

_Too bad they can't erase you._

_Too bad you exist in the first place._

**"I'm scared, I'm _scared_!"**

"I didn't know."

_The pain will stop if you can escape._

_It will stop if you can shut down the other Sides._

_It will stop, and you can **save Thomas.**_

A guttural wail tore out of his throat as he lurched forward, but the silk around his every limb kept him from getting very far. He tumbled to one side, more webs catching his hair and sending another wave of panic through him. His legs tried to kick free but were snared tight.

“ **No! Let me go, let me go!”**

If Janus was at all put off by his sudden resistance it certainly didn't register on either half of his face as he stood and stepped back. Virgil thrashed in his sudden desperation, but Janus' weaving had coaxed the webs to life, wrapping and pulling and tightening.

“ **Get off, get off, get** _ **off**_ **me!** _ **Thomas!”**_ He was on his stomach, fingernails digging into the carpet as he tried to drag himself forward.

“ **Thomas, I swear, just** _ **listen to me**_ **for once!”**

A sudden tug jerked his arms out to either side and his chin banged on the ground. Ignoring the taste of blood on his tongue, he shouted with all his might.

“ _ **THOMAS!”**_

But that was as far as his fit of temper was allowed to go; all at once, his bindings pulled so tight around his ribs he couldn't breathe, and Janus took that moment to seal his mouth shut with a snap of his fingers.

Sometimes, at this point, Janus would say he was sorry. Sometimes he would say he wasn't. Sometimes he wouldn't say either.

Virgil could never be sure which responses were true.

But he did offer Virgil a single assurance, equal parts comfort and condemnation:

“It's what Thomas wants.”

Hot, embarrassing tears began to fall from Virgil's eyes at his words, but Janus continued as though he hadn't noticed.

“I told you, Virgil, this is the only way. Thomas will never listen to you willingly, but we can still use his response. If I keep repressing you the way he asks, you'll grow resistant to it. Then he won't have any choice but to listen to both of us.”

This was the vested interest Janus had in keeping Virgil's reactions sharp: the more powerful the panic in his favor, the easier it was for Janus to steer Thomas toward selfishness. Objectively, it was perfectly healthy for him and the other Sides to be so singled-minded in pulling their different directions; their opposite efforts, when managed correctly, were ideally meant to balance each other.

 _Sub_ jectively, Virgil hated it.

He didn't _have_ a set direction. Instead, he was planted firmly at the center of every issue, yanking and being yanked every which way. He growled and hissed and thundered trying to get every one of them to _stop_ , but while every Side could see the ferocious Anxiety holding them back, none of them ever saw the panicked Virgil terrified of ripping apart.

Another pulse of fear (I can't be absent, Thomas could be in danger, I can't watch out for him from here) raked through him, and it stoked the anger burning in his chest. It wasn't _fair_ that he never got to be certain of anything. He _knew_ that many of his worries were unfounded, that so much of the hurt he felt was due to his own poor treatment of the others—ignoring Logan, belittling Roman, disregarding Patton—but how was he supposed to _stop_? Which worries could he dismiss if just one of them might come horribly true? Which ones could he bear to hold onto if it meant making Thomas' life hell?

Helplessness washed over him, and the room responded, darkening further, the shadows whipping to and fro like trees caught in a thunderstorm, and Virgil's bindings went _taut._

He may not have been able to speak, but Janus' power couldn't stop the cry that escaped him as thousands of threads cut into him at once. The pain climbed steadily upward and his mind sank deeper into a hopeless mire, thoughts slowing from their pell-mell dash to a grim, relentless procession, forcing him to examine every scenario they pressed on him. Without Logan's reason to balance Deceit's confusing presence he was utterly lost in whether they were at all probable or just another one of his ridiculous imaginings.

Speaking of imagination...

Virgil found himself distantly fascinated by the fact that his overwhelmed senses still managed to make room for a stab of cold dread when a loud screeching tore through the room like a banshee. Janus raised an eyebrow and smirked.

“I knew he wouldn't show up.”

The shriek centered itself in one spot a moment before Remus appeared, still making the sound with a face as impassioned as an opera singer on opening night. When he finally ended the horrid thing he placed one hand on his hip and jutted it out saucily.

“Philistines, Dee, the lot of them. They're straight-laced so tight their internal organs'll turn to mush and come spurting out both ends.”

Janus tutted prettily. “Now my devilish duke, you know we'll have to work harder at Thomas before you can get your due time in the spotlight. Why, just look what he's made me do to dear Virgil, and the little shadow isn't _half_ as disturbing as you." He gestured delicately to the Side in question, and Virgil flushed with shame, imagining how pitiful he looked, bound spread-eagle on the floor and utterly helpless, wheezing for breath with his tear-stained face pressed into the carpet.

Remus' spine made a sickening crunch as he folded himself completely in half in an approximation of a bow. “Oh Janus-Anus, you flatter me so.”

“Please continue pronouncing my name incorrectly,” Deceit snipped.

“Anything for you, Janus Ass-Pus. You may be the mindscape's resident expert on locking me down, but you _have_ provided a lovely captive audience, and in full BDSM style to boot!” With a dramatic pop he vanished and reappeared three feet over Virgil's stretched out form, landing directly on top of him and crushing the little air he had out of his lungs. Virgil found himself gasping in the fetid breath of the Side as the Duke yanked his head back by his hair and tucked his chin over his shoulder.

“Welcome back to you favorite show, Virgey!” his delighted voice shouted, making Virgil's ear ring.

And just like that the scenarios in Virgil's head began to tumble out of the Duke's mouth, only now they were fully fleshed-out sensory experiences: Virgil could smell antiseptic and hear buckles clanking as Thomas was locked up in a straight jacket, feel the heat and taste smoke in his mouth when the apartment burned down around him, see frightened eyes dim as Thomas squeezed a slender throat between his fingers.

Virgil was shaking uncontrollably, his exterior of outraged falling away to reveal a pathetic, frightened child. If Janus didn't still have hold of his tongue he would have begged, however vainly, for Remus to _stop,_ for him to feel even a modicum of shame for the agony he was bringing down on the fearful Side, but just like Janus, Remus was only doing what was in his nature to do. Thomas had split his creativity, Thomas had banished Remus to the back of his mind, and Thomas had tasked Deceit with holding him there. It wasn't their fault Thomas had decided to banish Virgil there, too. Everything about himself and the Others that tortured him wasn't a choice they made but a function they served.

_They are the fire, and you were always meant to burn._

His last reserves of instinctual resistance evaporated, and like a beast sensing weakness in its prey the spiderweb constricted, pressing deeper bruises into him where it was thick and drawing blood where it was wire-thin. It wound around him like a creeping vine, seeking new territory to cover, prying apart his fisted hands to snare each of his fingers. And it _pulled._ Pulled in every direction at once, sending hot pain down every muscle and tendon in his body right down to his bones, whiting out every thought in his head until he was just a mindless animal, cornered and in pain.

He distantly felt his eyes roll back as he opened his mouth and **screamed.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Give me ALL of the feedback...please?


	3. A Job to Do

Being so certain all the time could be a curse.

Knowing the truth, pulling the strings, seeing straight through every fabrication...it was enough to give one an overabundance of hubris—and it didn't help that hubris itself was also right up Janus' alley. After all, a little pride and self-worth went a long way toward keeping self-preservation running smoothly.

But there were many times Janus had the wish, however convoluted, to be more unsure.

He wasn't manifested in Virgil's room anymore, but he was still watching; the anxious side was currently limp and glassy-eyed, his bonds having receded back to harmless cobwebs he would find cruelly easy to shake loose once he regained his senses. His jaw was slack, a string of saliva running from his mouth to a puddle of spit and bile, the result of Remus trying to muffle his screaming by stuffing chunks of spider silk down his throat until Virgil vomited them back up.

Janus knew the repression was breaking him, and Virgil had precious few resources for building himself back up. Thomas, desperate as he was to prove that Virgil didn't exist, often pushed too far into things he was uncomfortable with, leaving both him and Virgil helplessly ravaged by fears the other Sides were either unwilling or unable to allay. And the little shadow could hardly request Thomas gather any substantial coping strategies when the host refused to acknowledge him outside of his blackest tantrums--tantrums that only got more and more savage as Virgil's ability to control himself wore thin.

Virgil didn't blame Janus...yet. He knew this because Virgil had said so, and he'd detected the truth in the admission. But Janus also knew that it was impossible for Virgil not to react poorly to his presence considering the more unpleasant duties he performed without hesitation.

Janus would have killed (figuratively, in a court of law) for some genuine hesitation: to bite his lip, to pause and reconsider, for some hint of nerves or anguish to echo in his voice. Anything to help Virgil hold onto his fading belief that Janus didn't relish tormenting him. But then, it wasn't like Virgil would— _could_ be sure of anything he expressed. Janus himself found it hard to reconcile how he could at once despise hurting Virgil and still do it so readily.

Even worse, he did so with full impunity. Thomas was in bed, hoping to sleep away his nasty feelings, and, come morning, both the rest and the psychological trick of a perceived “new day,” magically separate from the previous, would give the mindscape a reboot. Virgil's cuts and bruises would be gone; there wouldn't be so much as a drop of blood remaining to rouse the concern of even the most sensitive of Sides.

The Light Sides didn't know, of course. The repression would never work if any of Thomas' more _favored_ Sides found out exactly what happened when they expelled Anxiety; even Roman wasn't dumb enough to imagine outright hurting another part of Thomas was a healthy course of action. But Virgil would never have admitted it to them even if Janus hadn't locked his lips on the matter. Aside from pretending he could resign himself to his fate (fearing what vulnerability might be exploited if he didn't), Virgil didn't have it in his nature to voluntarily entrust that knowledge to anyone, most likely suspecting that at best they'd banish him regardless and add 'pitiful' to the list of qualities that put him beneath them.

He let Virgil believe that. There were a lot of painful things he let him--and _led_ him--to believe.

Janus shook himself, and quickly shifted his focus away from Virgil. So he hadn't always told Virgil the truth (shocker!). So he'd made him believe this was his only option. So he'd set a plan in motion involving a lot of things Anxiety would likely regret later. Maybe this wasn't their _only_ option, but it would prove most effective, Janus was certain. One day, when Thomas' anxiety had heightened to the point Virgil could no longer be denied, Virgil would force Thomas to confront his “Dark Sides,” freeing them from forever being exiled, ignored, and stepped on. They could reattempt cooperating with the Light Sides once _they_ were in a place of power.

Virgil need never find out that there had been any other paths open to him (they would have been futile efforts, surely). All he had to know was that his sacrifices were key to protecting Thomas in the future.

Again, Janus took pause to wonder at his unwavering conviction. The lies, the scheming in the name a greater good...It was effortless as breathing for him. It was his function, his nature, his _purpose_.

One he fulfilled by letting someone close to him hurt, over and over again.

He sank down. Rose at Virgil's side. Methodically pulled the cobwebs from his face, his hoodie, his hair. Made his movements slow and obvious when Virgil became aware enough to flinch away from them. Told him pleasant things, some of them true, some of them not. Too drained to refuse his attempts at comfort, Virgil would accept for the moment, but would later fall back into suspicion over whether any of it was genuine. But Janus would know the truth: no matter how necessary or enjoyable his scheming was, he would _never_ enjoy putting Virgil through this, and nothing would convince him otherwise.

After all, the one person he could never manage to fool was himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A growing author needs feedback! Thank you for reading!


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